Tag Archives: Life

This picture is what started it all. Last summer, my James fell in love with a calico cat who visited us in our barn in Greece during my yoga & writers retreat. She chased grasshoppers and shooed away spiders and bees and purred and snuggled and was just adorable. But what I failed to realize, is that she was a cat, not a calico kitten. So…seeing that my son was in need of more unconditional love around the house after our move, I adopted a calico kitten that looks much like our beloved Greek cat. A yoga student, who had seen this picture, called me and proclaimed it was destiny, we had to have this look-a-like kitten. While my boys were with their dad this August, I adopted this little one. But the stars weren’t exactly aligned with this one. Just my luck. Who knew something so cute could end up more like the bunny from hell in Monty Python?!

Don’t let her cuteness fool you. Sweet, adorable Tabitha, my crazed arch-nemesis! Notice her collar? She’s had this for three weeks due to an infected paw that won’t heal. This hyper diaper high energy gal climbs window screens, tearing them and re-infecting her paw, even after two shots of antibiotics, one round of pills and three different lotion medications. She’s managed to find ways to rip mattresses open from underneath, climbing up inside them and clawing at the coils. A master of untangling woven baskets, and a natural at flying directly up to the top of our refrigerator, only to fly out across our kitchen, as if by hang-glider, landing anywhere: on a lit stove burner, countertops with bowls of prepared food, you name it, she lands on it. Yup, she’s certifiable. And it’s not like she doesn’t have toys. So many, my den resembles a pet shop. But she prefers ‘other’ ways to get her energy out. Like tackling and scratching my ankles the moment I walk into my house—biting my calves deeply as I try to shake her off. In rare sleepy moments where she resembles past kittens of mine who like to snuggle, if I make the mistake of picking her up, she often bites my cheek or chin, so deeply, a few of my students wondered if I had had surgery for skin cancer. I’m not kidding.

For the love of my son, I mentally tell myself: “it’s only a flesh wound.” My youngest adores her. Tabitha sleeps in his bunk bed and even when she scratches or bites him, James still loves her and reminds everyone that she doesn’t mean it, it’s just instinctual. Well, I grew up with cats and I know for a fact that not all kittens are like this. But I just nod to him and wonder what I did to adopt a crazed animal like this who injects stress and frustration and high frequency energy into my house. During the day when I write, I lock myself into my room, not allowing her in, and lock all the bedroom doors and bathroom door so she can’t reek havoc.

Just when I’ve had it and am considering giving this expensive kitten away (four visits to the vet already for her damn paw!) James crept up behind me last week, put him arms around my waist and said: “Thank you SO much for Tabitha! She’s the best gift I’ve ever received. I just love her.”

Geez, well I can’t give the devil cat away now, can I? So, what can I do? Every time I scoop her poop or swat her away from our dinner table, after she’s thrust a dirty paw into my meal, I bite my lip and swallow down the strong urge to pick this little urchin up and throw her into the next door neighbor’s yard with a doberman pincher. Lets just pray that I make it sanely to next year, when the Vet insists that she’ll finally “chill out.”

At any given moment, a mother is somewhere in America close to her breaking point. And I imagine that she’s smiling, like I am, in this picture taken last week. Can you see it? Look closely. Behind the smile, somewhere in the eyes, can’t you almost feel the tightness in my chest, the held breath, the swirling thoughts that I’m trying to manage and keep at bay. I was behind the wheel, getting ready to take a kiddo to school, when I snapped the picture. Why did I do this? Because it dawned on me that I no longer knew what was driving me or where I was going mentally that day. As I was getting into the car, un-showered, with my teeth not brushed, my hair not washed, that morning, I had hundreds of thoughts swirling in my mind and none of them had to do with taking care of myself AT ALL. And that’s the life of a single parent, especially the full-time single parent. Not one ball can drop. No sick days allowed. And there’s no family to call nearby to help. And the guilt that comes from me striving to follow my dream to get published, when my kids are in need, bubbles up like ancient frozen methane gas rising to the surface.

But what’s life without dreams? And as much as I love these boys, and I do, I have to still carve out space for me to exist separately. My writing is what centers me and motivates me and has ever since I was 18 and writing for The Red & Black newspaper at UGA. It’s just hard to juggle all the demands and carve out space for my writing… so typically hygiene, self care and a personal life, is what gets sacrificed. But I think it’s worth it. And in the end, I keep telling myself that it will show my boys that a mom is more than a servant, driver, cook, maid, tutor for her kids. A mom is also a woman who has dreams and aspirations that are just as important as their father’s. I just wish that I could manage to squeak in more balance between the parenting needs, writing time, yoga teaching, to add in a little personal life. But all in due time.

Last week I received great news, insanely welcomed news: a few publishers are interested in my 3rd novel! I am meeting with them in New York in mid December when they will review chapters of my novel for five hours on three different days and then decide if they want to work with me. I can hardly believe it! For months I have been sending agents pitches every week and began to reach out directly to publishers too and … it’s working. 😉

So I’m racing to figure it all out. If their dad can’t fly back, I will likely leave the boys solo for five days to fend for themselves, asking a good friend and neighbor to pop in every now and then. My 16-year-old will be in charge and I’ll just pray that the house is in tact and our kitten still alive when I return!

It’s dawning on me that maybe, just maybe, it’s time for them to do more. I see my friends who let their kids bike and walk to school every day solo and wonder why I never let my youngest do this. Some have their kids make their own breakfasts and lunches and then do their own laundry. We are a single parent household, yet, I hardly ever ask my kids to even take out the trash. I do too much. Maybe I’m trying to overcompensate for their dad leaving. But in the end, maybe the kids will benefit more from the value of pitching in, helping out. I asked my oldest to take the trash out this week. SCORE! My youngest is making his own breakfast, too. Hip Hip for little victories! Maybe now, I’ll shower and brush my teeth in the mornings before heading out, lol!

The morning of that picture I was experiencing confusing brain drain (see article here) before my day had really begun. Scientists call brain drain the syndrome of over-working brains from multi-tasking non-stop to the point that it becomes hard to make simple decisions. I had stayed up late the night before, after teaching yoga classes, cooking & cleaning up from dinner, trying to wash our kitten’s infected paw (that’s insane! you should see the scratches on my legs!) then filling out applications for financial aid for my son’s symphony trip to Spain, and answering questions from my other son’s therapist. I couldn’t sleep. Yes, I had meditated, but life was too lifey. In the morning, instead of showering and brushing my teeth, I had prepared breakfast, made a lunch box, and dumped out kitty litter and signed parental slips for something or another, while slipping into an energy of fear and lack of gratitude. I suddenly forgot something major, but didn’t know what it was.

It’s time to get more help around the house. I can’t keep up with it all. Shouldn’t I let my nine year old do his own breakfast and lunch box and dump kitty litter for me? I bought the cat for him, right?

It’s so easy to get over-whelmed and since my ex and I don’t really talk, I end up managing it all solo, and in my mind, I have discussions with my universal guides about what I should and shouldn’t do until I just drop and feel like I need to wave a white flag or give up teaching or writing. But giving up means giving up a part of myself. I now understand why my mom insisted on working as a social worker while raising four children nearly solo, since my father was away most of the time. If she gave up working in a field she was passionate about, and had worked so hard to achieve, she’d be giving up a part of her soul, her identity.

It’s worth fighting for. It’s just not worth getting sick for. My health and sanity need to be a priority too. So, for now, I’m asking my boys to do more. OH! I signed up for health insurance and dental, as I’ve been three/four years without. I know. I know. … it was just too expensive, but I’m biting the bullet. And, I asked my ex-mother-in-law to fly in for a weekend so I can take time off this month. I asked my boy’s dad to fly in when I go to New York. Baby steps, right? It’s a journey of self discovery. I have to ask to receive. I have to believe that I’m worth it, in order to strive to take better care of myself. Balance requires effort and vulnerability and the willingness to receive help. I love to do for others, I’m a giver. But I need to allow others to give from time to time. I’m learning, slowly. A sense of humor is necessary! 🙂

The Light We Lost is a must read for all my girlfriends—single or married. Please, all of you, read this book. Jill Santopolo dives into the age-old question: “Why do I love him so much?” She explores why a woman could love one man passionately, insanely, recklessly—and continue to think of him for more than a decade—granting second chances, friendship and compassion—when he had the potential to crush her. Even after he had left her, broke her heart, called only when depressed, and behaved selfishly for years—she always allowed him back in. WHY?

I adore The Light We Lost for so many reasons. Jill is honest in how she portrays Lucy’s weakness for Gabe, who had, and would always, put his needs before hers—whether that be his career or his work out. Even when they lived together, he had major issues. He was secretive to the point of finding a job and arranging to move without telling her; flirty with other women; and not attentive to her feelings when at parties. He was confusing. Gabe proclaimed Lucy was his light, his muse and professed an undying love for her—yet Lucy never met his mother, whom he adored. You get the idea. But Lucy loved Gabe with an unapologetic intensity that she couldn’t control. She loved him more and more over the years—even while married to her stable, successful, happy and loving husband, whose only real crimes seemed to be planning trips to Paris and buying a dog and a beach house, all as surprises for her.

One could argue that Jill Santopolo’s debut novel romanticized the obsession many women have with the lovable, yet commitment phobic, unobtainable guy. Others may think she romanticized a woman’s longing for heat, lust, good sex with a bad boy, or an exciting and intriguing man. (Gabe took photos for the Associated Press in war regions.) But that’s not a comprehensive answer. I think Lucy’s inability to let Gabe go was rooted deeply in her need not to become her mother and to be seen, heard and respected. Gabe had his faults, but he also listened to, and encouraged Lucy, in all her dreams and career aspirations. Lucy’s husband Darren referred to her career as “cute” and asked for her to stay home with their baby instead of going back to work, using manipulative phrases like: “Don’t you want to stay home? Who else would take as good care of her?” Gabe would never do that, she had mused. Yet Gabe would also be gone for months on end while on the front lines in wars. He wasn’t the logical man to have a child with. And Lucy knew this. Yet she always picked up the phone when he called, even on her wedding day. She became intimate emotionally within the first breath, focussing on whatever His emergency was, whatever His pain was. She raced to see him whenever he was back in New York, even after she was married. It was a risky choice that put the intimacy with her husband at risk.

This book will snare you in, dear girlfriends, from the moment she and Gabe discuss their dreams during their first college date on 9-11. As you read how interested Gabe is in her need to make a difference, to help children all over the world, you’ll wish you had a man like him to talk with. The scenes of him reading her scripts, or helping her form ideas for her children’s TV show, will make you jealous. He cared, and was involved,committed to supporting her success. He was into her: her dreams, her ideas, her thoughts. The two inspired each other to be more, and to keep striving to make a difference. That’s heady stuff. As life chugs along with adulting choices that often require compromises, many women, especially moms, get lost. Lucy wanted to keep that determined, savvy, creative part of herself that Gabe always saw. She missed being able to talk with him about new show ideas. Her husband didn’t care about her job at all.

The fact that Gabe was also hot, romantic, overly sexual, unavailable for long-term commitments, yet still needed her, and her alone, during every crisis—was like crack to Lucy. Add the detail that Gabe was a wounded soul from an abusive father, and now you’ve combined crack with heroine for just about any woman.

This book will help you, my girlfriends, see your own obsessions, co-dependent tendencies and any man who became like a drug for you. I doubt there are real Gabes on this planet—yet there are men who have some of his alluring qualities: the artist; the romantic; the compassionate; the wounded; the leaver, the commitment phobic, yet emotionally intimate; the secretive; the dynamic; the listener; the supporter; the sexual dynamo; the wanderer; the brave; the Shakespeare quoter, you get the idea. He had so many hooks for Lucy, but think back and notice which similar hook was within the one you couldn’t say no to. The one you betrayed your self respect for by taking back again and again due to your irrational love that youjustcouldNOTLETGO.

Maybe you’re still fighting the temptation? Maybe he’s the one you could take back again, because you just don’t understand why you love him so. Even after he has hurt you time and time again and shown an inability to respect, love or be available for you, a part of you wants him back, right? It’s not explainable. The idea of never smelling him again or hearing the sound of his whisper in your ear, or his hand on your low back is excruciating, isn’t it? Maybe it’s romantic. Maybe he’s your soul mate or husband from another life time. I’m sure you think the connection is cosmic.

I do not know you. But I do know one thing. You are NOT physically OK like the police report stated. Not just after what you went through. After your body heals, you are not going to be mentally or spiritually OK for a long time either. My heart goes out to you. The clean-cut, nicely dressed stranger, who brazenly walked into your front door on Sunday afternoon and raped you, is sick. And he may attack others. The sheer audacity of a man to walk into your front door, on a Sunday, and then just walk out the front door after the attack, is terrifying. I imagine that you will re-play that horrific experience over and over again every time you come back home. The violation; the brazen lack of fear; the violence; the planning that likely went into it.

This man may have walked away free, and may not think much about it later—but you, my dear neighbor, will likely never forget it. You are changed forever. I wish I could say that you’ll be fine. I wish I could say that you won’t have nightmares, or that you won’t get up in the middle of the night and check your locks repeatedly. I wish I could say that you’ll soon feel sexy and free and trusting again. But it will take time. And there will be flash backs.

Your friends, who you dare to tell, may not show up for you, as rape is a subject no one is comfortable with. Even the most ‘spiritual’ of your friends may forget about it a few months from now because they don’t want to think about it. You will likely avoid them, or avoid taking ubers home alone, or avoid walking into your house alone for years. Forgive your friends for not checking in six months from now when you become paralyzed and debilitated with fear. No one wants to think about rape, or the world-shattering effects it has on a person’s life.

But we need to think about it. And we need to care more. Rape is an epidemic in our country. Every 98 seconds a woman is sexually assaulted in America, according to RAINN.org. One in every six American women has either been raped, or been a victim of an attempted rape. It’s mind-blowing. It’s shocking. It’s disgusting.

My neighbor, you may feel overwhelmed, angry, helpless and hopeless. Move through all the feelings, get help from a therapist, and then fight your way back to hope again.

All men are not like this man. And even though it can seem like we women are now surrounded by misogynistic and degrading men everywhere we turn— from our president, to our favorite talk show hosts. But not all men hate women. You will feel safe in your house again. Maybe you’ll get a dog who will charge down anyone who tries to enter—like mine did—saving me from a home invasion 15 years ago.

Just know this, dear neighbor: love exists, even in the broken places.

You will laugh again.

You will get stronger.

You will love again.

You will heal.

You will not always be scared.

If you ever read this blog and want to find me, my doors and arms are open, and I will listen to you any day, any time.

Now to the pathetic excuse of a man who attacked you:

Rape is an attack of a person’s soul. In my eyes, what you did is the same as attempted murder. You tried to murder this woman’s life as it once existed.

You may have gotten away with it this time, but Karma is a Bitch.

Maybe, as Marianne Williamson says, love is the only thing that is real, and all violence is an illusion—but I see you. I see you right now lingering in your dark, shadow vibration that wants to, and feels entitled to, hurt others. And I know deep down that you see your worthless and disgusting behavior for what it is.

You will not get away with this in the long run. No matter how many others you attack. You will get caught. And when you die, I pray that you will have to re-live this moment and any others. I pray that somehow, someway, the angels and spirit guides for all the women you have attacked, will show you just what rape feels like—from the inside out. You will feel and see their fear, their pain, their tears, as your own. Isn’t that what ‘One Love’ is all about? See, I’m one of those southern yogis who believes that the Holy Spirit moves powerfully within the flow of Universal forces that steer us in the direction of love. And love isn’t just an ethereal feeling. To love is to try to understand, and to care, and to be kind, and to empathize and to hold yourself accountable and to make amends when you don’t treat others, as you would have yourself be treated.

You will, one day, truly understand what you have done. You cannot fool God. As you sow, so shall you reap. I pray that you will be personally guided closely toward that conscious light of love. I pray that you will be steered up-close and thrust within its blinding light.

My world turned on a dime two weeks ago. In an instant, I felt like I was in a fast-moving vehicle on the highway, skidding out of control, yet time defied the law of physics as the wheels screeched, the car spun out, fish-tailing and beginning to flip. It may still be on its side, mid flip, and I’m praying my son is in his seat belt and that we will land safely off to the side of the hectic freeway. That’s how it felt when I learned my nine-year-old nearly committed suicide last year. Thank God he told me. I’m beyond sad. And, everything else has come into sharp focus for me. ALL of my choices. ALL of my daily activities and where my attention goes on a daily basis is all under sharp scrutiny. My life for the past nine years has slowed down in my mind, frame by frame, allowing me to analyze how I have been living. I’m making brave choices right now too, as it’s becoming drastically clear what I can—and should—be doing differently to make my baby a priority. I guess you can say I’m in triage mode.

Two weeks ago I found out my baby, who was home with his big brother on a Saturday morning when I was teaching two yoga classes, actually got severely depressed. His big brother, doing what big brothers do, decided to go out with friends and let his little eight-year-old brother play on the XBox. But the gaming got my youngest depressed and sad. He said he thought about all the boys who had been bullying him at school. He thought about how my life would be better if he had never been born. He said he knew his big brother and I would still be living in London with his dad—that his dad would never have left, had he never been born. My heart exploded. My youngest put a knife to his throat and allowed it to make a mark as he said he listened to two voices: one saying to do it, that he didn’t deserve to live, that he was a bad kid. The other saying not to do it, not to crush his mother or his brother. I thank the angels who must have intervened that day and convinced him to put the knife down.

My heart aches. Six months went by and he never told me. Last week, he tried it again. Or he tried to grab a knife again. I took it away from him. All knives are hidden in my house now. How can he not see how adorable, kind, loving, smart and fun he is? How can he not see the lovable and deserving person he is? We’ve been doing gratefuls every night since he was born. It’s not enough. I got him a life and sport coach two months ago. A kid who is beyond inspiring and fun. They exercise, they create mantras and goals for the week, but it works temporarily. Like exercise in general, my son gets the lift from the exercise, but the next day he’s down again. I put him in a brain study at USC and it proved his IQ is very high and that he is emotionally and intellectually about 3 grade levels above his level. This week the neuroscientists concluded he feels isolated because the boys in third grade bore him or are too physical with him. Much too physical.

So I’m exploring my options. I’ve reached out to therapists. One wanted $300 /hour and six months of therapy payment upfront. Um. NO. One of the neuroscientists at USC is working on finding me someone who takes insurance.

But really, my little guy just needs a friend. I was insanely shy when younger, but I had that one BFF. It makes all the difference in the world. In Hermosa Beach, capital of volleyball and a town that attracts professional athletes, most kids at his school are very active, cocky and surf boy stylish. James is cerebral and artistic and would rather read a book that most sixth graders are reading He isn’t fitting in. He’s been hit, kicked, slapped, punched and even had a baseball bat to his gut on the playground. Nothing done.

So, I’m exploring my options. But being a full-time single mom who can now never, ever leave him alone, it’s scary. I won’t lie. I have no family here who can help on a daily basis, I can’t afford a nanny, and know few friends who get it, or who I could trust, or even who have kids this age. But I’m hopeful. And I’m making major changes that need to be made.

Within two weeks, I broke up with someone I had only been dating a month. He was selfish. He demanded a lot of my time. He whined and kept asking me to drive long distances to see him and he gave nothing in return of significance. He didn’t understand what I’m going through, nor does he really care. Done. I’m not dating, AT ALL, for a long time. My son comes first. I’m dropping teaching yoga classes that are in the evening or require three + hours of my time to open the studio, and to lock up after, as my son can not be alone, ever. And I can’t risk something happening while my older son is babysitting. Can you imagine? That would be cataclysmic.

I’m looking into alternative schools and seeing if they will offer scholarships based on the findings from the USC study. Next week I take off most of my yoga classes and have put my son into an advanced science rocket camp at the California Science Center. I’ll drive downtown every day and hang out there in case he needs me, squeeze in some writing time. I’m trying to talk with his dad too, as he’ll be seeing the boys for a few weeks in early August. He can’t leave his son alone, ever. I’m scared too death. But I have to trust the Universe, trust that his big brother will be ‘on’ during their vacation and I’m choosing to believe my son who promised he won’t try to hurt himself again. And, I’m getting a pet. That’s a BIG compromise for me. I’ve honestly gotten ‘over’ pets. I grew up with them: cats, dogs, rabbits, birds, frogs, you name it, we had it. But now I’m tired of fur everywhere: choking on it in bed, or having wet dog or cat food smell in a small house. It turns my stomach. But we need more unconditional love in this house, so I’m getting a pet this weekend. Something for my son to love, to help take care of, and to look forward to seeing when he returns from visiting his dad.

Life is hectic right now, but also beautiful. I’m razor focused on the love I have for my boys. I’m focused on the kind of life I need to live to keep them safe, to help them feel loved and to one day thrive. Eventually I will find the support I need. Instead of focussing on what I don’t have and what I can’t do, I’m focussing on what I DO have and what I CAN do. I miss my mom desperately, who died of early onset Alzheimer’s. She was amazing with my kids and such a kind soul. But life goes on. USC will likely be my boon for finding support. A concerned therapist gave me her cell phone number. I’m beyond touched by their kindness and open hearts. The owner of the main yoga studio where I work, is adjusting my schedule so I can mainly teach morning classes and another studio in town is hiring me for day classes only. And my oldest will have to pitch in for now when I need help. His little brother can never be alone until stable.

IF I don’t blog in a while, just know I’m focussed and wishing you love & light.

Did you go into your marriage, pre-children, expecting to have equitable parenting duties with your husband? Did it ever occur to you that your career would be deemed less important, therefore you’d be expected to have more time to shop, clean, care-take? Did you ever imagine that you would have less time off to replenish, while working more than your spouse? If you knew all this going into your marriage, would you feel differently about your husband?

Equitable parenting duties. Equal time off. Mutual respect. In 2018, according to multiple studies, these are still drastically missing within heterosexual couples who have children.

In reality, for most American women, these ideas are mere pipe dreams. It’s just not how our society, and how most fathers, behave. Period. End of story. There is a lot of research to back this up. See the links below for in-depth articles in The Washington Post, Forbes and Time magazines.

Maybe in the top echelons of society among very young couples who live in democratic, liberal University settings, do you see fathers who are doing more and are behaving with more respect. But for the most part, throughout America, at every age and social and economic demographic, this isn’t the case. A woman’s career can be treated like a hobby and not as important as a man’s, by his behavior—forcing a woman to feel battered into doing the lion’s share of parenting, cleaning, care-taking of in-laws, parents and organizing of family activities.

For example, one mom interviewed said her husband “Just doesn’t get up.” She explained that her young husband will remain drinking his coffee at the kitchen table and checking his phone, while his wife, also a full-time working executive, is racing to put together backpacks, get the children dressed, prepare lunches. It puts her at a disadvantage with work as well as loading her down with stress, anxiety and bitterness—resulting in poor health and marital resentments, lack of sex drive and dissipating connection between mom and dad. And the children notice. They see what we do, much more than what we say—and model our behavior. Which is why many experts say the misogyny behind the #metoo movement, has its roots at home where mom is undervalued, taken for granted and disrespected.

“Among heterosexual parents, fathers — even the youngest and most theoretically progressive among them — do not partake generously of the workload at home. Employed women partnered with employed men carry 65 percent of the family’s child-care responsibilities, a figure that has held steady since the turn of the century. Women with babies enjoy half as much leisure time on weekends as their husbands. Working mothers with preschool-age children are 2 1/2 times as likely to perform middle-of-the-night care as their husbands. And in hours not so easily tallied, mothers remain almost solely in charge of the endless managerial care that comes with raising children: securing babysitters, filling out school forms, sorting through hand-me-downs.”

Ey ey ey people.

I feel strongly that this lack of respect and “unawareness” among fathers who overburden their wives by not stepping up, is the root of divorce. I’ve seen so many moms become severely bitter, insecure and disconnected without hope they can ever achieve their dreams within this family dynamic. This is likely the reason why so many mothers look forward to their alcohol binging nights out with other moms, highlighted in The Bad Moms movies. And it is also why I, as a full time single mother for the past nine years, feel extremely lucky. At least as a sole parent, I don’t have ANY expectations that a partner will be, or should be, doing ANYTHING for me and my boys within the household on a daily basis. No one will be prepping for schools, buying foods, cooking dinners, planning sports and summer camps, going to parents nights or performances, yard work, etc. It’s just me. Surprisingly, I find peace and liberation with this as I have lost all my bitterness from needing that from someone. I am also never, ever going to live with someone who may be critical of my appearance, or my house’s appearance, my cooking (or lack thereof), or parenting abilities—while also pouting about my lack of sexual desire at the end of the night. I’m tired. Yet, I’m following my dreams again and writing novels and teaching yoga and my boys know that mommy needs help at home and that her dreams are just as important as their own.

When I was married, my older son was learning something different. He was learning that mommy’s dreams don’t count, because they don’t pay as well as daddy’s, and that she needs to do the lion share of parenting and cleaning and deserves less time off than daddy. And I’m to blame for allowing this dynamic. I used to think my ex taking our son to the park on a Saturday afternoon, after he had been gone all week and I had spent late-nights catching up on work, meant that I had an hour to clean the house and race to the grocery store. It didn’t occur to me to get a massage and let him help me do the other stuff later. Yet I was working full time as a magazine editor and taking care of our son solo and staying up late managing deadlines. Where did I get this misconception that I had to work, work, work and never rest? From my parent dynamic of a working full – time mother who did all the parenting. It really does get passed down generation to generation and women (especially those raised in the South) are taught to believe that they are just more compassionate, better organized, better at cooking, more patient and therefore, better at parenting, so it’s easier for us. I can’t tell you how many times I heard friends prepare weeks of food for their husbands before leaving for a work trip because their husbands “just can’t open a can of soup.”

This has to stop. Having a penis doesn’t mean a man can’t cook, tuck a child into bed, read bedtime stories, grocery shop, plan birthday parties, volunteer at schools, design holiday cards, and help with in-law care-taking. None of these activities are exclusively made for humans with vaginas. But I understand why women just do the extra work when they fear that it just won’t get done otherwise.

It took divorce and becoming a full-time single mother for me to realize that I allowed this toxic, old-fashioned inequitable dynamic to exist by not demanding my ex do more. If I had boycotted the home situation, protested, left for an extended amount of time while leaving our child at home, perhaps my ex would have seen what was going on. Or likely, he would have hired a full-time nanny and not fretted about the cost.

I predict there will be a shift in the American family (heterosexual) dynamic within the next 50 years where women just opt out. We’re tired. And we’re worthy of time off and help. It’s time for us to raise our hands, lift our white flags and say ENOUGH. Doing it all and being everything to everyone, enables a toxic old-fashioned view of parenting, and is just not worth ruining our health and forgetting our dreams for.

If this has riled you up, sadly, here are more articles and studies regarding the lack of gender equality in American households and society:

Anne Tyler, one of my favorite authors, recently revealed that her next book Clock Dance, is based on her theory that a person’s entire life and identity can be shaped by a single decision made in early childhood. As early as seven years of age, Tyler says a child can know exactly who they want to be and what type of temperament they want to have. For instance, Tyler said in her published Note prefacing Clock Dance:
“I believe that our entire lives can be shaped by a single decision that we make during childhood as to who, exactly, we should be. As to how we should be, what kind of people we want to become. ”

She provides a few examples of decisions she made when seven years of age, after studying the two grown ups in her life. Upon comparison of her parents, Tyler decided that she’d rather be like the steady, gentle, patient one, instead of the sharp tempered and erratic one. And that being the case, she knew she’d have to not marry anyone patient, as clearly, there “is only a certain amount of patience to be had, and you don’t want it all to go to the other person.”

She leads readers to surmise that one decision to be the patient one, basically formed her life and became the catalyst for her next best selling novel.

Do you agree with her theory? Can we decide as early as seven who we will become? What our personality traits will be? Maybe. But then again, don’t we always have the opportunity for reflection and to change, to grow? Or maybe we just humor ourselves with the idea that we can or will change, yet underlying personality traits of either being hyper, dramatic, patient, shy, short-tempered, etc. are embedded into our soul like a watermark that never leaves. So are we born with any genetic predispositions, or do we choose all of our personality traits based on our environments and what we choose to become?

There is an energy in the Universe that is within you and within me and is connected to a Divine Source. It doesn’t matter whether you believe in God via Catholicism, or Judaism or Hinduism or Taoism or Buddhism or are a Muslim. Maybe you don’t believe in God and you refer to It as the Universe or Christ Consciousness or Buddha consciousness, or an HP as folks in 12 step programs do. We are each eternal and connected to the Universe that created intricate flowers, tides, sunsets, animals, stars. As I say in yoga, we are human beings, not human doings. We are linked to one another, even if you may not want to be linked to that someone who hasn’t behaved in a light-filled way. There is a time to fall away, there is a time to step up and I’m becoming increasingly aware of the need to stop judging, and to embrace acceptance in a rebellious way. IF I trust the Universe, and the energy within me that is connected to that Divine Source, and I trust it is in you as well, I can accept what happens and I can let go with love anything that doesn’t serve me. IF I can think only good thoughts of you, without trying to control or manipulate, you will feel that good energy. And this is how I can flow and move on from those who have hurt me, as they are teachers. And IF I can think that the Universe only wants me to grow and expand consciously into love, I can allow everyone in my life to be exactly who they are. I can trust that the flow of my life is moving along a path toward my Dharma, my purpose. And IF I can trust that life force and energy and love that I feel when I meditate and connect to my intuition, and IF I am brave enough to follow my purpose and not cower to my fear, life will continue to flow and continue to bring in the people who will reflect and support that love and light.

So this Friday as I pack up and move into a house that is smaller and cheaper and will allow me to continue with my writing and my yoga, I am filled with happiness and gratitude. My boys are learning that their happiness is not based on how big their rooms are or how much STUFF they have. Happiness is based on living our lives with purpose and joy and in the flow of our inner voices. So we are simplifying and all three of us are really filled with peace about this next move, this next chapter.

Happy first weekend of summer! For more inspiration, watch this video by one of my mentors, Wayne Dyer (who did hot yoga every morning of his life, btw!). Love & Light!

Two and a half years ago I stepped away from what was potentially a six figure + deal with a national network reality TV show. I told only a few friends, as I knew most would think me crazy. I’m a single mom. I’m raising two boys in LA. But the TV show, from the producers of The Biggest Loser, focussed on divorce drama. It was why I had stopped monitoring and contributing to single mom chat boards for Dr. Drews Lifechanger’s show. And it’s why I switched the focus of my blog from single motherhood. That topic limited my life, defined me, attracted negative ranting, encouraged victimhood and drama that makes all participants get stuck in the past. I walked from being in a major reality TV series because it was focussed on divorce and single motherhood and I was convinced that all the pain I have lived through would be drug back up on national television and relived and rehashed in a negative light—instead of in a sustaining, inspiring way. Sure, I was cheated on and left just after having a baby. And yes, my husband was in multiple other countries with his ‘girlfriend’ while I raised two boys alone. The producers loved my story of embracing yoga and forgiveness—so they said—but were fascinated by me being alone with two young boys, while my mother was also dying, and of me giving up my editing jobs in order to better care for the boys. In the end, I knew scenes would be manipulated to create drama, foster retaliation, increase outrage and bitterness, etc … dashing all my efforts to forgive and to move forward mindfully and lovingly. Maybe I lost a lot of money, but hey, my ex and I are good friends now. He isn’t a ‘bad’ person. We are better apart. It takes effort to see that and to move forward and to strive to not always live in a black and white strict viewpoint and to always put children first. What I have learned over multiple yoga trainings, traveling solo across the world, and through my meditation and writing practice, is that we have to free ourselves—by lovingly setting those who hurt us free—in order to thrive. To thrive means being happy, hopeful, joyful, vibrant, healthy, present, abundant. Isn’t that what we all want? Why do we then sabotage our happiness by holding on to grudges and negative, distrusting thought patterns and habits? Saying no to the producers (who kept offering more money!) was my first major step into truly letting go of the past, stepping into alignment, integrity, forgiveness and Dharma, or purpose. If you’re a single mom in pain, or just a human who has been hurt repeatedly or is depressed by life that feels heavy, this article, which outlines my new book Becoming a Fierce Female, is for you. Much love.

Ten Steps to Become FIERCELY HAPPY:

FORGIVENESS. Forgiveness is like five steps in one. If you only achieve one step on this list, this is the most important one to foster more happiness in your life. Just know this:
Forgiveness is NOT being a doormat.
Forgiveness is NOT saying what someone did is OK.
Forgiveness is NOT taking a person or job or circumstance back.
Forgiveness IS breaking the chains that bind you, that tie you up mentally and spiritually in the past of hurt and suffering.
Forgiveness IS FREEDOM. It is saying to the person who has hurt you: “You must have been out of alignment with God and your higher self when you did that. So I forgive you. But it was so NOT OK to treat me or any other human being that way, with so little compassion, that I am dropping the event and you from my consciousness. With love, I set you free. I set myself free.”

Stop Talking About Past Wrongs. Every time you do this, you are telling the Universe: “More Please.” And then the big U is happy to dish up more assholes, more car accidents, more liars, just to help you prove that you are right. Stop it. Focus on the positive in your life. Sure, you may want to try to understand how you attracted a certain person or circumstance into your life, but talking smack about the person only puts you in the same lower vibration. Nothing good comes from making yourself a victim. The seeds of success are in every setback. Find your power and MOVE ON.

Be Present. This is easier said than done. Take baby steps: Focus on the person talking to you and put down your phone. Notice your surroundings. Stop multi-tasking. Strive to listen. Life opens up and miracles only happen in the present moment. Don’t miss out.

Be Positive. This is easier said than done as well. Maybe you are depressed by sad news in the media or by a sick friend or by a recent tragedy. Life is always in session. I know. (I expand more on this in my book as I have witnessed murder, been attacked and have friends and family members who have been as well.) But what positive can you focus on today with gratitude? Make a daily gratitude list. Even if it just says water, food, bed. It’s a start. Every day, seek gratitude and seek how you can become a better person who uplifts others and is empowered to make a difference.

Meditate daily in stillness. If you want to radiate light, you must become still .We are 85% water, but water can only reflect the sunlight when still. When our nerves and thoughts are negative, reactive, choppy, boiling, restless, NO light can be reflected from above. Still your mind, still your heart, and listen to your inner guidance and watch as you bloom and lighten up your heart chakra. (More in my book, with guided meditations.)

Ask how you can serve, not how others can serve you. Every day when you wake up, just mentally ask the Universe how you can be of service in order to get into alignment. Marianne Williamson said it best when she said to envision yourself as the faucet, not the water, for the Universe to flow through. Even if you don’t know exactly what you want to do as your profession for the rest of your life, start slowly and simply. Ask: ‘How can I best serve today?’ Maybe the answer will just be to smile at strangers. To give someone a parking space. To offer assistance to a senior. To listen. Start small, always with gratitude.

Find Your Dharma. Explore (unapologetically) all that you love to do in life. Music, art, sports, etc. Find ways to incorporate it into your life. Single full time moms, you can listen to your favorite tunes while you cook, watch videos on art, travel, take a class or join a Meetup group. Take the time to embrace your passion. It’s why we are here.

Get enough rest. It’s hard to stay positive, grateful, present, calm compassionate, forgiving if you are running on fumes. Get 8 hours of sleep a night.

Take daily inventory. Before you go to bed, ask the Universe (just mentally) where you could have done better that day, or where you fell out of alignment with your highest self. Without judgement, ask to have whatever was out of alignment removed. Maybe you weren’t patient. Maybe you snapped at someone. Maybe you were being a perfectionist and controlling and not listening to your child or friend. Whatever it was, when you see it in your minds eye, forgive yourself for being human and say, “thank you. please help me remove this.”

Exercise daily. I’m a passionate yogi, everyone knows that. But I don’t care what you do, just find something you enjoy and get moving. Take the stairs at work. Walk on your lunch break. Jog. Swim. Just get the blood flowing and the endorphins going every day, so you can feel serotonin flow and sweep negative cobwebs from the corners of your mind as you lower your stress and slip into your bliss!

I’m digging into these gems this mother’s day! Last night, after teaching my hot yoga class, I went to a book store and walked around. I had cancelled on a friend who offered to take me to the Trocadero in Hollywood since my nanny had cancelled. I really wasn’t that upset about it. Yes, it’s the quintessential ‘Hollywood spot’, but I’m not that into Hollywood. I’m more into creating and dreaming. So, I decided to treat myself to a dream walk, exploration, of the book store isles sans kiddos for an hour. A top expert in publishing, an agent for 20+ years, told me in an interview last week that trying to get published in the genre of literary fiction, is nearly impossible for new writers today (via traditional publishing houses.) Hmmmm. There’s a lot of fear in that statement. And I’m not one who needs to mire in fear or let it inchworm inside my head as I write my 4th novel. I respect his opinion, but it is not the definitive voice deciding whether or not I will ever get published. So I took a stroll down the isles and among the ‘new voices’ and low and behold, there are many in both literary and women’s fiction. My new intention is to read a ‘new voice’ every month until next mother’s day. Why? Because I want to support my fellow writers and new voices who are trying to give birth to their babies in this daunting publishing arena. So, I picked out The Nest by Cynthia D’Aprix Sweeney published by Harper Collins in 2016. It is Sweeney’s first book to be published by a major publisher, and soon to be made a movie. Family drama, addiction, inheritance, sibling squabbles, are all contained within its pages. I can’t wait to start!

My other books I purchased last night are bite-sized spiritual instruments of wisdom to inspire my meditation practice, which helps me focus on what I can do and create, and stay out of fear. I can turn to a page, within The Art of Peace by Morihei Ueshiba or the Dalai Lama’s Little Book of Mysticism, and read one teaching by these masters daily. Here are two examples. I adore Ueshiba’s art representing movement as I’ve never been able to separate movement of dance and yoga with the spiritual. That’s why meditation was hard for me to embrace five year ago, yet dancing and yoga have always been my conduits to calm my mind, improve my mood, let go of fear, etc.

Dala Lama’s ‘little book’ is perfect to inspire meditation themes as it’s just enough to start the conversation that can be released to the Divine within meditation. For example:

Busy moms don’t often get to spend hours at a time reading on a Sunday. But I got a few hours in this morning and I’m grateful. I’m now off to the California Science Center to explore King TUT’s tomb with my nine-year-old. It’s the perfect Mother’s Day for me as it started with books and poetry (poem by my little guy); will marinate with wonder at the museum, will move with music, as we go to a concert this evening, and end with picking up my oldest at the airport. It’s my first mother’s day in 16 years without my wonder William. I can’t wait to give him a big hug!

I’m sending so much love to all my fellow mums. May you feel at peace with yourself and with your Dharma. May you feel inspired to reach for your dreams. May you feel healthy and supported. May you always feel your divine light and self worth. And may you always, always embrace your sense of humor—God knows we all need it!

Resources:

AloneTogether: Single Moms Support Group (This is a closed group, please say you found their site from me, Laura Roe Stevens, when requesting to join.)
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Alone-Together-Single-Moms-Support-Group/47147016846

SingleMom.com

The UCLA Family Commons: http://www.uclacommons.com/

Single Parent Housing: www.SPAOA.org

Pell Grants For Mothers: PellGrants.ClassesAndCareers.com

Domestic Violence Hotline: http://www.thehotline.org/

Ownership

NavigatingVita was born on August 26, 2011. All rights to the material presented on this website are owned and copyrighted by Laura Roe Stevens.